


Bleeding for a Chance

by Grotesgi



Series: Love/Hate Heartbreak [2]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, The Pits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grotesgi/pseuds/Grotesgi
Summary: They’re new to the arena, and they have no idea if they have what it takes to make it.





	Bleeding for a Chance

****His brother was easy.

Always had been, but ever since their arrival into this damned place the ease of berthing Sideswipe had only gotten _ easier. _

Not that Sunstreaker couldn’t see the logic of it. They’d learned quickly that there were very few friends to be found here, and that most would use their strength to get what they wanted, irregardless of what _ you _wanted. 

So, why fight? They didn’t have the power or the skill to fend anyone off. It would be easier to just go along with it every time, as if it _ was _what you wanted. 

That was Sideswipe. That wasn’t Sunstreaker. No, he had far too much pride to swallow to do what his twin did.

Sunstreaker fought. Every damn time he fought.

Every damn time they pinned him down and did it anyway.

He hated his weakness, his inability to practice his right to autonomy. It grated on every inch of his being, yet there was so little he could do about it.

These were mecha who had fought here for _ vorns, _ often longer.

He’d been here for a few _ weeks. _ The difference between the experience and skill levels caused by that alone was _ laughable. _He was a whelp next to fully grown wolves that took no pity on him.

Maybe his pride would eventually get him killed. Someone might take real offense to his resistance and decide to teach him one final lesson. Medical assistance was in short supply, that they’d also learned fast. Even if they didn’t outright kill him, they could leave him so damaged it was basically the same thing.

That was a risk Sunstreaker was willing to take.

* * *

They should’ve stayed together. It was _ safer _ that way. It didn’t entirely prevent all… _ Incidents, _ but it still lowered their chances. Mecha were less likely to try to take advantage if there was two of them, rather than just one.

But foolishly they’d split up, Sideswipe to go fetch their ratios, Sunstreaker to have a quick visit to the disgustingly grimy, pathetically poorly stocked washracks. Unlike most here, _ he _cared about keeping his finish in a shine, though that task was made incredibly difficult by the lack of supplies and general dirt of the arena.

By Primus he would still try.

There was a downside to it too, though. Sunstreaker knew very well he was attractive as it was, but keeping his gloss when most others didn’t bother only added to his looks and made him stand out all the more. It made him even more of a target, as if his inexperience and relatively small stature didn’t already manage that well enough. 

Everyone in Kaon knew to look over their shoulder everywhere they went. There was no safe place in the city, and Sunstreaker was created there. He was _ Kaonite _ in every meaning of the word. Under normal, _ civilian _ circumstances he knew how to look after himself. In all circumstances he could recognize danger when it came his way.

The pair of gladiators that broke off from the wall they had been leaning against a few steps after he had passed them set his Kaon-trained warning bells ringing. Fear, though, didn’t register on his spark or his mind, merely _ anger _at how he knew this was going to go.

He was well past fear.

Sure enough, when he turned to another corridor that would’ve taken him to the mess hall, three more mecha with that _ intent _ look in their optics were standing around _ oh so casually _ some ways down the hallway.

Sunstreaker glanced down the way he’d come. The two mechs were still trailing after him, now openly leering.

The way down the third corridor was blocked by _ another _two mechs hungrily eyeing his frame.

Seven, then. That was the biggest group he’d _ entertained _so far.

He should feel _ flattered_.

Sneering, Sunstreaker squared his shoulders and continued on his way down the hall he needed to go. Frag them if they thought they could scare him into doing anything other than what he’d planned to do all along.

Even if this wasn’t going to come down to how afraid or not he was. As was written in the stars, the four mechs came after him to the stretch of hallway and the three further down straightened from their slouches to come towards him. Surrounded, cornered, Sunstreaker came to a halt before he walked right into the _ waiting arms _ of any of them, planted his pedes, and _growled_.

It would do nothing to dissuade the group, he knew. In fact, they only _ laughed _at him. “Aw, beautiful, don’t be like that,” one of them crooned. Smallest of the group, he was still two helms taller than Sunstreaker.

Outsized, outmatched, outclassed… A _ lesser _mech might’ve given up and submitted to what was to come. Sideswipe surely would’ve. 

Not Sunstreaker. “Compliments won’t get you anywhere, _ darling_,” he spat at the mech, turning sideways to keep both groups in his sights as they closed in on him.

He could try to run. In fact, that was the only smart course of action, assuming he wanted to leave the situation. He couldn’t fight them all, that was for sure. He could barely handle one mech at a time, and that was when they were nearly as unskilled as he was.

Sunstreaker had no reason to think these weren’t individuals with far more experience than him.

Making a run for it it was.

He took the first opening he saw when one of them moved away from the wall enough to leave a gap he could fit through. He knew his chances were poor. He doubted he was honestly expecting this to work.

But it was better than just standing still and let them do whatever the pit it was they wanted to do.

Sunstreaker made a dash for it, and he got halfway out of the ring they had formed around him before someone snagged him by the throat and threw him back into it. He collided with another mech, who was quick to wrap his arms around him and nuzzle the top of his helm.

Sunstreaker shuddered from helm to pede and blindly sank his talons _ deep _into the mech’s servos. For a gladiator, it likely wasn’t much of an injury at all, but it still managed to catch him by surprise enough that his hold on Sunstreaker loosened and he could wiggle his way free. “You little glitch-”

Someone shoved him back against another frame. This time servos closed around his wrists, vice grips that he nevertheless struggled against. The faces around him wore varying expressions of amusement and annoyance, the one with the bleeding servos reading anger.

Sunstreaker snarled.

“Pull him down,” someone said.

Like hell.

He _ twisted _in the hold of the mech trapping his servos, and though it hurt and warnings popped up on his HUD when his structure was subjected to bend and pressure it wasn’t meant to deal with, he managed to break free one more time. Sunstreaker took the opportunity to jam his claws into the seams of the closest mech he saw—more anger bled into the air around him along with a small cry.

Energon stained his claws.

It was _ something_, but even doing it, Sunstreaker knew it wasn’t _ enough_.

The largest mech of the group snatched him by the shoulders and pulled him away from his _ friend_. Sunstreaker reached to use his claws on him too, but before he could, the mech put all of his considerable strength into forcing him out of balance and _ down_. 

It worked, partway. He fell onto one knee, counted it as a personal victory, and tried to get back up.

One of them kicked him in the chest. _ Hard_.

Sunstreaker fell backwards, but caught himself on his elbows—the little good that did to him when the same mech planted his massive pede on his chest and applied pressure.

He roared his frustration when the weight the other was putting on him buckled his elbows and he fell the rest of the way down, back impacting with the dirty deck. As soon as he was down, they descended like vultures. Sunstreaker lashed out and someone cursed when his claws caught them, but they were quick to grab his arms and force them down. As much as he strained, he couldn’t break their hold when they were all but sitting on him.

Sunstreaker snapped his denta at them, though no one made the mistake of putting anything within _ biting distance. _ “Feisty one, isn’t he?” someone commented. “Might wanna stay away from that mouth!” another one laughed a second before his legs were grabbed. There, too, Sunstreaker put up all the resistance he could, and managed to buy himself quite a bit of time before they managed to pry his legs open and someone bulled their way between them.

Not that he had anything to do with that time, but it was one small victory more, even if the greater war was his to lose.

“Open,” came the next order, and the sharp fingers pressing insistently against his valve cover didn’t leave much room for confusion. Sunstreaker snarled and glared down his frame at the mech, and didn’t obey.

“If you wanna play it like that…” the mech shrugged, and those claws found the seams separating his panel from the rest of his plating. Sunstreaker hissed when the sharpened tips sank into the small seams and began to force the panel aside inch by terrible inch.

Just when the mech would’ve had enough leverage to dig his digits in and properly _ pull, _ Sunstreaker finally gave in and let his panel snap aside the rest of the way. Better that than losing it completely. 

The mech made a sound of satisfaction, complete with a patronizing, “That’s a good mech.”

Sunstreaker growled his offense, then grunted when a spike too large for comfort shoved into his unprepared valve, setting the rim and sensors within aflame.

But that was nothing new.

The mech began to move, his compatriots laughing and leering over his helm. Sunstreaker continued to test their hold on him, optics burning with _ hate _ every moment he spent on the ground, a _ toy _for these no good lowlifes that apparently couldn’t find willing berth partners. They held him firm, but Sunstreaker hadn’t given up even once before, and he wasn’t about to start now.

They’d have to try harder than that to make him capitulate.

Harder than _ this. _

He could feel the spike throb in his valve, close to an overload he wanted nothing to do with when there was a sound from one end of the hallway. Sunstreaker glanced in that direction with the rest of them, though he was the only one whose engine didn’t stutter at the sight of the mech. Big, spiky, silver with red accents, blue optics, he was nothing special.

But to these mechs, he seemed to be. “I suggest you all leave,” said the new stranger. “_Now_.”

Sunstreaker had to admit to some surprise when the mechs actually _ obeyed. _ The one in his valve pulled out almost fast enough to hurt. Sunstreaker wasted no time closing his panel, and once they released him, he wasted even less time climbing back to his pedes. The slagging cowards went on the run the moment someone bigger and badder showed up, and Sunstreaker let their retreating backs know exactly what he thought of it with more than a few nasty words thrown into his small tirade.

It might come bite him in the aft if they_ ran into each other _ again, but pits, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

After they were no longer in sight, Sunstreaker finally deigned to turn to his rescuer. “Do you expect _ thanks _ for that?” he growled, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could and taking one step towards the mech. He could never hope to loom over him, not with how much _ bigger _ the mech was in every way compared to him, but sometimes it was enough to show you weren’t afraid to scare the unwanted away. “To get _ your turn? _ ‘Cause it’s not happening.”

The other seemed surprised by the suggestion. Sunstreaker wasn’t sure why. “No,” he said, growling like Sunstreaker had offended him. “Of course that’s not what I want.”

_ ‘Of course’? _ “So? What do you want then?” Sunstreaker lifted his chin and took a second step towards the mech.

“Nothing. I want nothing.”

_ Liar. _ Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed despite the apparent honesty of the other. _ Apparent_, but mecha could fake a lot of things. Honesty included.

Just take a look at Sideswipe.

Speaking of Sideswipe… His brother made a surprise arrival by rounding the corner behind him in a hurry, jogging to reach Sunstreaker. “You okay?”

Sunstreaker grunted, had one glance at his twin, and decided he should’ve asked that same question from Sideswipe. A little bit _ distracted _as he had been, he hadn’t noticed anything amiss with his brother, but here, with his twin covered in drying fluids, he had to question just what had happened to Sideswipe.

Not with an audience, though. 

“Um… Thanks. For, you know, getting rid of them,” Sideswipe said, and if Sunstreaker hadn’t been paying attention to his brother, to know as much as he did Sideswipe had clearly paid attention to _ him _despite whatever had befallen him. Which was, really, entirely characteristic of him. Sideswipe liked to be in the know of things at all times.

This time it served to befuddle his _ savior _a little bit. To his credit, he didn’t take long to make the connection. “You were off ‘facing while your brother was being… Forced?”

_ Brothers. _

“They wouldn’t let me leave,” Sideswipe said, confirming Sunstreaker’s suspicions and further bewildering the nameless mech. “You were forced as well?”

As expected, Sideswipe had a chipper, “Can’t rape the willing!” to offer.

And who was Sunstreaker to tear down what Sideswipe used to endure what the Pits threw at them? If he wanted to play the part of the willing participant...

“You sure you don’t want anything in thanks? I don’t mind sucking you off or something. Or, you know, anything else,” Sideswipe continued, gesturing along his frame. “Free range.”

Indeed, who was Sunstreaker to comment on what his brother did with his own frame. The other silver mech, though, he didn’t seem _ at all _ on board with Sideswipe’s suggestion. It was a… Curious reaction. Not one he would’ve expected. “No, I don’t want anything,” he said again, and again Sunstreaker didn’t believe him. _ Everyone _wanted something. Why deny that?

At the very least some of the tension plaguing Sideswipe released with the mech’s answer. Sunstreaker could feel the muted shreds of relief, and once again marveled at how Sideswipe could make and go through with offers he actually wanted nothing to do with.

“Oh. Well, thanks, then. You’ll accept that much, won’t you?” Sideswipe said, right before Sunstreaker felt a warm, _ gentle _servo land on his arm. ”Come on.”

His optics still lingered on the grey mech before he allowed Sideswipe to lead him away.

* * *

“That’s the guy that saved you!” Sideswipe hissed urgently. The cheer of the crowds and an already sizeable collection of other gladiators observing the current fight had drawn them to one of the arena gates. If so many had come to watch, it had to be good, right?

And that might be so. In the ring the big, spiky silver mech from before was facing off against another opponent even larger than him. The crowd was in full roar, and one look at the match board gave all the reasons why.

A high ranked fight. A _ very _high ranked fight.

Sunstreaker snarled in aggravation. “He did not _ save _me. Just showed up.”

“Yeah, well, whatever, now he’s there and _ look who he is_.” Sideswipe barely had the audials and definitely didn’t have the optics for his brother, too busy staring at the scene in the ring. “Megatronus. He’s one of the best, and he helped you out!”

Sunstreaker shot his twin a sharp look. The wonder in Sideswipe was starting to rise to levels he couldn't approve of. There was no reason to _worship_ the damn mech.

Even granted that Megatronus _had_ put a stop to the other gladiators’... _ Activities_. And hadn’t asked for anything in return.

Sunstreaker didn’t trust that, though. He didn’t trust that one bit. A mech like Megatronus was bound to come with enough ulterior motives to fill this whole damn place. As far as Sunstreaker was concerned, they’d be best keeping their distance from him. 

With even more reason now that it turned out his so called _ savior _was one of the champions on the rise. 

But despite his misgivings, Sunstreaker couldn’t _ not _ watch the match right along with his brother. His attention wasn’t as rapt as Sideswipe’s, who was practically leaning forward as if that would help him see better, but he had to admit this _ Megatronus _… Knew what he was doing.

So did the other fighter, but even to Sunstreaker’s untrained optic it looked like Megatronus was winning out. There was just… Something about the way he moved. Confidence, like he owned the ring, the fight, the world. Deadly grace despite his size.

Surety, experience, and practice. Megatronus was all that brought together.

Reluctant admiration rose in Sunstreaker’s spark in spite of himself. He reached to the side and smacked Sideswipe upside the helm, but when his brother’s _ meep! _didn’t ease the feeling in his core…

Sunstreaker sneered and turned on his heel, stalking back towards the depths of the arena. “Hey, hey, where are you going?” Sideswipe called after him, and he could hear his brother’s pedesteps as he jogged after him. “The fight’s not over yet. Don’t you wanna see who wins?”

“I’ve already got a pretty good idea of who’s gonna win,” Sunstreaker grunted when Sideswipe caught up with him and matched his stride. “I’m not gonna stand around and wait for the inevitable.”

“...You don’t like him much, do you?” Sideswipe asked after a beat of silence. “Is it ‘cause he saw you… You know?”

Sunstreaker huffed and sped up his pace. Sideswipe did the same, and together they marched down the dimly lit maze of hallways. Where? Sunstreaker didn’t know and Sideswipe didn’t ask.

It didn’t even matter where. Away from the ring and the mech in it was enough.

  


* * *

  
“Megatronus keeps asking about us,” Sideswipe reported as he stepped into their tiny quarters—more of a closet with a berth, really. They weren’t important enough to get better accommodations. “Don’t you think we should just… Find out what he wants?” his twin went on to ask, plopping down on the recharge slab next to him. 

“No,” Sunstreaker answered instantaneously. “No, we should not. It can’t be anything good.”

Sideswipe was quiet for a moment before he spoke up softly. “We can’t avoid him forever. The Pits are only so big. If nothing else works, he can corner us after our next match.”

Sunstreaker knew that was true, he did. Despite that he growled and threw away the dirty rag he had tried to polish himself with. It hit the wall with dissatisfying silence before floating to the floor.

He should’ve balled it up first. Not that that would’ve made much of a difference.

“We’re not gonna make his task easier for him, that’s for sure,” he said mulishly. “If _ Megatronus _is so desperate to find us, he can do it himself.”

Sideswipe stayed quiet for a moment, inspecting his claws like he always did when he was deep in thought. Sunstreaker took the chance to fish another, slightly less dirty rag from his subspace, and attacked the plating on his thigh with it.

“Whatever you say, I guess,” Sideswipe said at length, reclining back on the berth now that he had done his thinking.

Sunstreaker could have asked what he’d thought out, but that would’ve most likely opened a can of worms he wanted nothing to do with.

So he didn’t.

* * *

  
In practice, they were fodder. They didn’t matter. They had made no name for themselves—_ yet_.

No one would care whether they lived or died, or about _ how _they died, or whatever else happened to them.

They were worthless, like so many others here and elsewhere on Cybertron.

Sunstreaker wasn’t alright with that. Actually, he vowed to change that. And the Pits? They were an opportunity for that change. The best fighters were admired and remembered, loved and revered. _ They _mattered.

And he could be one of them.

In theory. In practice, they didn’t know what they were doing or how to improve themselves, and asking another, more experienced gladiator for help could’ve only ended badly. They didn’t know who was worth even a shred of trust and who would take advantage of them. 

In practice they were in over their heads, matched up against gladiators who had already climbed out of the bottom of the barrel or whose owners actually cared about improving their skills.

In practice, the task ahead of them seemed insurmountable. They needed to learn how to fight, _ fast_. If they didn’t, there were only two options ahead of them: die or fall even lower down the ladder.

And Sunstreaker didn’t particularly fancy becoming a buymech. At least they had the looks for it, if it ever came down to that, but at that point they would need to have a serious discussion about which one was the worse fate.

But however bad the odds looked, by Primus he would try to overcome them. The same determination had Sideswipe in its grasp, and… At least they had each other. They could have been all alone too. 

Even then, _ each other _was of very limited help when neither of them knew more than the other, when they were both figuring things out as they went. They practiced. Regularly. Because that was what you did when you wanted to improve, wasn’t it?

There were matches too. Not often, but they got written on the board a few times.

_ Not often, _ because the handlers knew they were no good. 

Well, Sunstreaker was of the mind to show them better.

Sideswipe was left waiting behind the gate to the arena floor without so much as a parting word between them when Sunstreaker strode into the middle of the coliseum to meet his opponent. It wasn’t a fight to the death, and he knew they wouldn’t match him against someone _ well _above his skill level. That would only lead to a boring fight.

But considering how low they had set the bar so far, it wasn’t hard to be better than him. So, operating under the assumption that _ everyone _was more experienced than he was…

There was room for only one desire: _ win. _No matter the cost. 

And win Sunstreaker did.

It wasn’t _ luck_, though neither was it skill. It was lack of hesitation, the absence of mercy—the will to _ hurt _in whatever way it took to secure his own victory. He scarcely knew the moves, had no proper training on what parts to target, but what little he did know, Sunstreaker put in full use. Every weak spot he could think of was his to exploit, no move was too underhanded to use, every opening was an opportunity.

He wasn’t perfect. By the end of it he was barely in a better shape than his opponent.

But he won. He left his opposition bloody on the ground and limped from the arena floor back to the arms of his twin.

_ He won. _

  


* * *

They continued training after wasting his paltry winnings on barely sufficient repairs that they needed despite the cost. 

Although ‘training’ might have been a generous term for what they did whenever they found an empty training room. It was better to not have an audience to witness their pathetic attempts at sparring; Sunstreaker wasn’t sure he could have withstood that disgrace. 

But they _ tried _, tried to learn from what they did with each other. And they were improving—little by little.

It wasn’t fast enough. There was no future for them if they didn’t win on the regular, and at the pace they were going, they weren’t going to manage that anytime soon.

It didn’t help that sparring with his brother was a far cry from fighting a mech his spark wasn’t related and connected to and that he didn’t have an eighth sense for. He could predict Sideswipe in a way he never could with a mech that didn’t happen to be his twin—it just wasn’t the same as what he’d run into in the ring. 

But they couldn’t give up either. That wasn’t in the cards.

Even if the cards looked very poor.

All they could do was make the most of what little they had.

It was another day of sparring privately in one of the smaller training rooms that couldn’t comfortably fit too many mecha. Practice weapons lined one wall, but they weren’t using them that day. Sunstreaker found hand to hand… Preferable, and Sideswipe had indulged him despite his own preference for swords, as he often did.

They weren’t getting any further than they did on any other day. What they did, it was definitely better than _ nothing_, but trial and error when you couldn’t actually go far enough to injure and test the true effectiveness of your attack was a slow teacher. They had none of the experience required to judge the supposed outcome of any given attack, unless it was wholly obvious.

And _ wholly obvious _ was easy to see coming.

Add to that that they had to _ hold back… _ Neither of them enjoyed it. What option did they have, though? They couldn’t afford repairs for injuries they hadn’t gained in a match they had won, and they didn’t know enough to do their own repairs. They _ had _to hold back. 

It only served to make the whole process all the more unenjoyable.

But they did their best. They focused on what they were doing to gain every miniscule tidbit they could learn from it, to the effect that at first neither registered the sound of the door opening and closing.

A severe oversight if there ever was one, but when Sideswipe’s optics flicked to something over Sunstreaker’s shoulder, Sunstreaker too was alerted to the fact they weren’t alone anymore.

Together they turned to none other than _ Megatronus _himself, the scourge that had been looking for them, as rumor had it.

“It’s you,” Sideswipe said, circling around Sunstreaker. He could feel his brother’s spark pulse, trepidation and awe rolled into one. “Did you change your mind?” Sideswipe continued, and,_ ah, _ there was the reason for the trepidation.

Sunstreaker waited tensely for Megatronus’ answer, but unfortunately the mech didn’t even understand what Sideswipe asked from him. “About what?” was all he said.

“About the thanks.” Sideswipe explained with a shrug. “Our quarters aren’t far away if you want some privacy.”

There was no visible reaction from Megatronus this time around, but once again the answer was _ no_. “No, I still don’t want that from you.”

“Then _ what _ do you want?” Sunstreaker snapped, tired of Megatronus continuously defying expectations. Couldn’t the mech just make _ sense _ and work like the rest of them? _ Predictably? _

No, he couldn’t, _ apparently_. Megatronus had the decency to glare at him—Sunstreaker let his own expression speak for itself—but then he went on to say suggest things he never should have. “I saw you fight,” fair enough, “You have potential. I came here to offer to train you.”

Sunstreaker could feel his thoughts screeching to a halt at the declaration. _ Megatronus_, one of the champions, training _ them_, no-name newcomers?

_ Megatronus _ thinking they had _ potential? _

It was surreal and utterly laughable. “_Why? _” was Sunstreaker’s first concern. 

Sideswipe continued where he left off, his thoughts on the same rails. “We know who you are. Do now, anyway. You’re one of the rising champions, the best fighters the Pits have to offer.”

“Why would you spend your time on us?” Sunstreaker finished

“As I said, you have potential,” Megatronus said again. Sunstreaker nearly burst out laughing at the absurdity of it—_ Megatronus_, gladiator elite, in a dingy training room with them, personally delivering the news that he thought they had _potential_. “Potential I would hate to see go to waste. I believe that with the right tutelage you can reach far.”

Did he think they were blind to the fact he was bound to have hidden motives that simply couldn’t spell anything good for them?

Did he think they were that stupid?

“And _ you _want to provide that tutelage?” Sunstreaker sneered.

But, “We accept,” his twin said in the next moment, against all sense and reason. Sunstreaker’s optics snapped to him in outrage.

Apparently one of them _ was _that stupid. “What in the pit are you doing-” Sunstreaker hissed, but Sideswipe utterly ignored him and went on to provide his explanation for this madness. “No one else has offered, and we’re sooner to off ourselves than get anywhere on our own.”

Sunstreaker growled, but it was _ true_, even he had to admit that much.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

He said nothing else though, and Sideswipe took that as all the permission he needed to seal the deal.

The slagger even _smiled _when he signed their certain demise. “When do we start?”


End file.
